


The Truth About Heaven

by clindzy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Community: wincestbigbang, Depression, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Sex, Soulless Sam Winchester, Temporary Character Death, Vampire Dean Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-09 19:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11111283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clindzy/pseuds/clindzy
Summary: Dean never thought he would have to spend a minute without Sam. That all changed when the apocalypse started; Sam said yes to Lucifer and he slowly but surely began to lose his reason for breathing, his reason to stay human. He kept his promise that he made to Sam, trying to live a normal, apple pie life but living life without his soulmate felt empty and flat. That didn’t even take into consideration the fact that Cas was gone on his mission to find God and why he was brought back. Bobby felt Sam’s loss just as keenly as Dean did. As the events unfold before them, Dean is brought back to the same conclusion and irrefutable truth: there is no heaven for him without Sam.





	1. Your End Is My New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this fic was supposed to be for the Wincest BB 2016 but ultimately my muse kicked up her heels and refused to progress. I am going to post what I have written, adding new chapters as soon as the muse allows.
> 
> As always, music heavily influenced the process. At some point, I will add an entire playlist.  
> To start I recommend listening to "Truth About Heaven" by Armor for Sleep, the premise of this entire fic, and "Life is Beautiful" by Sixx A.M.
> 
> This fic starts post Swan Song and will end at Sacrifice. I have tried to keep everything as true to canon as possible but there are some places where divergence will occur.
> 
> I truly hope that you enjoy this labor of love <3

If someone had told Dean five years ago that he and Sam would face the Devil himself he would have laughed in their face. Sure, his business was the supernatural but he had no reason to believe that God was even in the realm of possibility. Why would he?

What kind of God would allow monsters to exist and kill humans? Now, everything he thought to be true had changed. His baby brother, his soulmate, reason for existence was locked in a cage with Lucifer himself and Heaven’s other most powerful archangel, Michael. Adam was barely a fleeting thought on his radar. He hadn’t really known him so he couldn’t waste his time or what little emotions he could spare on the kid. He couldn’t honestly feel anything for anyone other than Sam right now anyway, every bone in his body, every cell heightened to the fact that his baby brother was gone. What had hurt him the most had been the recognition in Sam’s eyes as he was holding him down during that last onslaught; the physical pain and aftermath didn’t even register to his senses.

Dean was barely holding himself together as it was without Sam – thinking about another lost member of the Winchester line would only serve to decimate him completely. He couldn’t afford that, no one could really. Sammy was counting on him, Bobby was counting on him. The whole damn world was counting on him. Why did he have to do this alone? Could he do it alone? Did he even want to?

Standing up slowly, Dean stared blankly at the ground before him that only seconds before had been a gaping pit, Lucifer and Michael’s one way ticket to Hell, and wished again that he could have jumped into that void with Sam. Instead of Sam’s flesh, it was Baby’s cold metal biting into his flesh that was grounding him into the present; their last night together was a mash of bloodied lips and bone on bone. Dean mashed his fist to his mouth, cursing the tears that would fall if his body would actually allow the action, and attempted with wild desperation to restrain all of the unseated rage, grief, loneliness and every other godforsaken emotion that he couldn’t bear to name at the moment.

Within seconds that seemed to span lifetimes Dean rose up to his knees, joints popping and protesting being sedentary for so long and finally took a look around, really seeing the carnage of what had taken place.

“Cas, I thought you were a goner. Are you God?” Dean said thickly, swallowing against the lump in his throat and his chest.

Cas looked down at Dean in his unintentionally condescending way, a trace of mirth on his features, pressing his fingers to Dean’s forehead and healing his wounds; if only the angel could mend what was broken on the inside, Dean thought bitterly as his face returned to normal.

“My Father brought me back and has promoted me, Dean. I will be returning to Heaven to restore order.”

Dean knew an edict, a command, when he heard one, so he simply blew out a breath and attempted to ready himself for the drive back to South Dakota, where he would be all alone with musty books, too much whiskey and Bobby’s body until he was able to build the pyre needed to burn him and send him off properly. He had only closed his eyes for a second and reopened them to see Cas standing over Bobby’s body.

He damn near passed out again when he saw Bobby standing upright, breathing – what in the hell was going on here, Bobby had had his neck snapped like a cheap hambone. There was no way he should be alive! Dean’s inner monologue would have raged on but he tamped it down, in favor of moving forward and getting them the fuck out of this cemetery that was crawling with more than just human spirits, the remnants of angelic Grace laying thick and melancholic on the air, lending a soul trembling vibe that even Dean couldn’t explain.

By the time it had occurred to him to say anything in any manner of graciousness or lackluster anger, Cas was gone, leaving Dean alone with Bobby, both of them with more questions than answers, both of them feeling a gaping chasm in their hearts and souls where Sam had resided.


	2. Arms Wrapped Around Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bobby kept holding him, wrapping him up in the second closest thing he’d ever known to home and Dean felt the tears he’d battled back for so long – through Azazel, Ruby, the demon blood, Sam saying yes to Lucifer, all of it – come to a head and he was utterly helpless to stop their traverse down his cheeks._   
> 

“Bobby, what the hell just happened?” Dean asked, eyes meeting matching desperate, desolate eyes, seeking any answer that his surrogate father could provide, willing even to accept a lie if it meant that his whole soul would be numb from all of the agony he was currently experiencing in simultaneous waves.

“He did it, my God, Sam did it,” Bobby whispered, pride and reverence bleeding through his tone.

Dean gripped Bobby’s arm and shook him, needing him in the present more than ever. “Bobby, how are you alive?”

“I would guess that Cas pulled some strings or it wasn’t my time or a little of both,” he replied uneasily, feeling the residue of the showdown shrouding their general vicinity, needing to get away from it as soon as possible.

“Okay, that makes a little sense. Cas said that God brought him back and promoted him. He’s returning to Heaven – that’s not going to go well at all, he’s been with us for far too long.” Dean stared over Bobby’s shoulder, unable to make eye contact at the moment, as another fresh onslaught of memories of he and Sam driving in Baby, slick skin in too small motel room beds, the pure unadulterated joy of one of Sam’s smiles, rammed into him.

“Son, we’ll get him back,” Bobby promised, about to tears himself, unable to comprehend how life would be without both of his boys to give him gray hairs and drive him to the brink of insanity every day.

Dean nodded, raising his hands to his mouth, lost in another memory, only this one hurt just a little less – Sam was all of 15 the first time that Dean realized there was something more than brotherly love between the two of them and it didn’t take long at all before he had his arms and hands full of lanky, fresh faced Sam, kissing and touching every inch that he could reach.

Clearing his throat and putting his mask back on, Dean spoke, “We should get going before it gets dark. I want to get out of Kansas as soon as possible.”

Bobby huffed out a laugh, more a sound of pain than anything else, nodded in agreement and opened the door to his Chevelle.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then huh?”

Instead of speaking, Dean went to turn and walk back towards the Impala. Before he could move two steps, however, Bobby had engulfed him in a tight hug, pressing him tightly into him, so tight that he could smell the familiar scents of his musty books, his really good bourbon that he thought was a secret and the overlying scent that reminded him most of Bobby: leather.

Bobby kept holding him, wrapping him up in the second closest thing he’d ever known to home and Dean felt the tears he’d battled back for so long – through Azazel, Ruby, the demon blood, Sam saying yes to Lucifer, all of it – come to a head and he was utterly helpless to stop their traverse down his cheeks.

“Just let it out, Dean. We’ll figure this out and get Sam back to you in one piece.”

Bobby wasn’t a fool, he knew what Sam and Dean were to each other, he just preferred not to think of what they got up to; he still had no idea how John had missed the blatant signs when the boys were growing up, incapable of being separated for more than a few hours at a time, even as adults.

Sniffling and wiping his nose roughly to ground him, Dean jerked his head towards Baby as an indication that he was ready to start driving and get as far away from this apocalyptic hellhole as he could.

Nodding in response, Bobby swung open his Chevelle door, wincing as he heard it squeak and groan, disturbing the eerie hallowed silence of the cemetery.

The interstate was suspiciously empty and Baby ate up the open road like she was made for it. Dean could only think of all the times that he looked over, seeing his beautiful brother sleeping, being grateful for one more day together; this wasn’t right, his heart knew it, his soul did too. Beating his fist against the steering wheel, Dean turned up the radio, willing it to be something that Sam hated so it wouldn’t hurt so damn much.

No such luck – _“Wanted”_ came pouring out of his speakers and Dean lost it, scrabbling to pull the Impala to the shoulder. He had known his entire life that there were odds stacked against him, against Sam, against their family, period, but to take his only reason for living and breathing away, again, for good? Dean couldn’t justify living in a world that didn’t have Sam in it. They would always be two halves to one whole, his key to his ignition and not even Lucifer possessing him could have changed the all encompassing emotions, feelings and love that he held for Sam.

Bobby saw Dean pull off the side of the highway, knowing full well that Dean couldn’t hold his armor and façade together for long. He pulled in behind him, allowing his car to idle; if Dean needed him, he would come to him.

Dean allowed the years of pent up tears to spill over and onto his clothes. By the time his eyes were dry, his clothes were soaked but his heart was completely empty. It had only been ten minutes but it may as well been a whole lifetime. He felt like a battered soldier, relying on his most basic survival instincts, emotions leaving him weary and exhausted.

There were still 6 hours of driving in front of them, Dean wanted nothing more than to sleep, hoping this would all be a nightmare when he woke up tomorrow. Sighing, he jammed Baby into drive once more and jerked her back onto the road.

Four and a half hours later found Dean and Bobby physically and emotionally spent in ways they had never experienced, not even after their most intense hunts. Both of them had kept their feet mashed on the gas pedal without a second thought. For once, it seemed as if luck was on their side. Dean bit back a bitter laugh as that thought crossed his mind.

“Just take my room, Dean. We’ll get the gear unloaded tomorrow.” Bobby’s weary eyes assessed Dean, knowing that he wouldn’t survive on his own, grimacing inwardly at the thought of bringing up Lisa. But it was Sam’s last wish for Dean to try and have a normal life; if that was even possible, at least Dean wouldn’t be alone with Lisa.

“Alright,” Dean’s voice was only a shadow against the darkened library, unable to muster any force behind his words or even any volume to project his voice.

As Dean settled into bed, he was painfully reminded of the last time that he had to sleep alone without a choice – he had dropped Sam off at the Greyhound station hours ago, finding the nearest dive to drown his regrets and his sorrow in, unable to follow through on taking someone home, so he went home alone to an empty bed, one that was lumpy with bad springs but reeked of Sam’s scent and the memories of what they had done together in that bed; he didn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning in scratchy sheets, missing his baby brother more than he had missed anything in his 

entire life. He figured it would be another night just like that and not even a decade could dull the pain or mentally prepare him for the gulf of loneliness that awaited him. Dean stared at the bed some more, contemplating never sleeping again, before sighing and running a hand through his hair, then stripped off his leather jacket, boots and flannel and simply collapsed into the bed, not bothering to cover up or use a pillow, intent on restricting himself from comfort as much as possible. Sam wouldn’t be privy to such things in the Cage, so why should he?

Dean blinked his eyes against the sun gleaming full force through the curtain-less window, unaware of how he fell asleep or how he could have slept at all with Sam not by his side.

He stumbled downstairs, seeking out coffee or whiskey, whichever he could grab first, about knocking Bobby over in the process.

“Fresh coffee in the pot and eggs on the stove,” Bobby motioned to the counter and stove with a jerk of his head, words muffled behind the paper.

Mumbling, still unsure of himself and what life meant now, “Thanks, Bobby.”

Dean chanced a look at the last member of his family that he had left, seeing his pain and grief in the set of his body, hearing it in the forced normalcy of his tone, feeling it in the air all around him.

Bobby waited until Dean had finished his coffee before even thinking about broaching the subject of Lisa; he knew it was a fool’s hope to expect Dean to eat, he couldn’t either, not yet anyway.

“Dean, we need to talk about what Sam asked you to do,” Bobby’s tone was serious with an expression to match.

Dean jerked his head up, not liking where this was heading. “You don’t think I’m leaving here, do you?” incredulity colored his voice, heart stopping cold in his chest at losing the only other family he had.

“Son, you and I both know that Sam kept you grounded and kept you going. With Lisa, well, you get a chance to be happy, an honest to God shot of leaving this life for good. You’re going to leave here today, and hope that she takes in your sorry ass,” Bobby smiled mournfully, thinking of what they both had lost, not realizing how long this interminable agony would last.

Swiping his hand across his face, grimacing at the stubble and the dull ache in his jaw, Dean squared his shoulders resignedly. “You’re right, Bobby. I can’t let my words to Sam be an empty promise. I’ll take a shower and head out.”

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder as he rose from the table.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the library searching through the lore.”

The remainder of this thought went unspoken, no reason to clutter the air with needless words at this point.

It took all of his energy to muster a weak smile and to propel his feet forward so he could get himself upstairs, and clear away the superficial reminders of Sam being ripped away from him. Nothing could scrub the despondency or bone deep ache of grief from his soul.

Thirty minutes later and Dean was saying his goodbyes to Bobby, promising to stay in touch. All they had left was each other. The only way either one of them would survive was clinging tight to the other and they knew it.

Dean found himself in Baby, key poised above the ignition, questioning whether he really wanted to go to Lisa or not, but truth of it was that he couldn’t lie to Sam, not even in death. Starting up the car, letting her roar to life, Dean jammed his foot down on the gas, spewing gravel as he left, leaving burnt rubber heavy on the air behind him as he drove towards whatever hope he had left in a woman he used to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love!  
> Find me on Tumblr at deansapplepi3!


	3. Misery and the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa looked Dean over, not seeing one trace of the man that had wooed her all of those years ago, and definitely not seeing the confident man that she had seen three years ago. All she saw was a man with a broken heart and destroyed soul, missing the one person who made him whole and kept him human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to keep the relationship between Lisa and Dean as close to canon as possible. There are a few instances where it just felt right to follow where they were leading me.
> 
> This is one those pieces that I've literally poured my heart and soul into. I would love to know what you think, comments and kudos from you keep me inspired!

 

Dean pulled into Lisa’s driveway just as the moon was beginning to crest in the sky, dread filling his chest like lead. He had no idea how he was supposed to try and live a normal life while Sam was locked in a prison with the two most vengeful beings in existence: Lucifer and Michael. Beating his right hand against the steering wheel, he cursed God and the universe again for taking away everything he had ever known about love, home and family. Dean knew that black rage and despair was oozing off of him but he couldn’t bring himself to care; Lisa would just have to understand. She had understood well enough three years ago when he and Sam had explained changelings to her. Dean shook his head – he would have never thought that would be a conversation that he would have had with a weekend fling but stranger things had happened in his existence. Pulling himself out of his head long enough to turn Baby off, he attempted to straighten his rumpled clothes and hide all evidence of the tears that he had cried off and on for the last two hundred miles. Dean swung open the door, cringing when the squeak seemed loud enough to wake the dead. Lisa surely had heard him pull up, and if she hadn’t then the grinding of the car door would certainly alert her to his arrival.

He hadn’t bothered to call ahead. He couldn’t see the point; more importantly, his mind was so focused on keeping himself awake driving and tamping down all the memories he had of Sam riding shotgun with him. Unfortunately, they kept coming, rolling over one after the other. One in particular stuck out to Dean and it broke his heart to think about it even now – rescuing his baby brother from the flames that had engulfed Jess, taking her from Sam forever, and damn near threatened to take him right along with her. He felt the strangled moan leaving his throat before he could stop it.

 _Why take him and spare me_ , Dean thought angrily. It wasn’t fair that he should still be here and have a chance at the American dream when it was all ever Sam had wanted for himself.

Continuing up the sidewalk to Lisa’s front door, Dean lost the battle with his tears once more and broke down again; that was how Lisa found him, shivering on the sidewalk, sobbing so loud that the neighbors had turned on their lights and were starting to come outside to see what that unearthly wailing was.

 

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Lisa asked, sinking down to her knees to see if Dean was hurt, attempting to put her arm on his.

 

Jerkily, Dean looked up, heartwrenching pain visible in his watery green eyes. He moved his arm out of Lisa’s reach, unable to be touched at the moment.

 

“Sam’s gone. I had nowhere else to go,” Dean choked out.

 

Immediately, Lisa understood what had brought Dean back to her door. Steeling herself for the disappointment and her own agony that lay waiting just around the dark corners of the night, she smiled gently at him, not needing any words to express how she understood. Offering her hand again, she lifted him to his feet, intent on getting him inside before the neighbors began to ask questions that she couldn’t possibly answer and Dean had no business answering.

 

“Let’s go inside, Dean. You’re freezing and wet.”

 

Dean looked down at himself, realizing for the first time since stopping for gas at the last unmemorable place that he had forgotten to put his coat back on. He also noticed that his shirt was completely soaked by his tears. He accepted her outstretched hand, allowing someone else to lead him that wasn’t Sam and damn, if that didn’t rip his heart wide open in tatters all over again.

“Okay,” he whispered.

 

Lisa looked Dean over, not seeing one trace of the man that had wooed her all of those years ago, and definitely not seeing the confident man that she had seen three years ago. All she saw was a man with a broken heart and destroyed soul, missing the one person who made him whole and kept him human.

She didn’t speak another word until she had him safely inside the house.

 

“You’re okay, Dean. I promise.”

 

Vacant emerald eyes met hers, she wasn’t even sure that Dean was conscious at this point. Fisting her hand in his shirt, she shook him hard, blowing out a deep breath when she saw some of the fire come back into his eyes.

 

“Lisa, you’re all I have left now…you and Ben.” Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke, lending credence to Lisa’s theory that Dean was absolutely wrecked and it had everything to do with Sam.

 

With a small resigned smile, Lisa moved to the coffee pot to warm up some coffee for Dean, knowing full well that he would need it, along with a shot of whiskey, if she was going to get any part of the story from him.

She handed him the coffee mug, looking him deep in his eyes, knowing that now was her time to ask questions; there would be no other opportunity.

 

“What happened, Dean,” Lisa asked softly.

 

Taking a gulp of coffee, wincing as he felt the burn of cheap whiskey, Dean sat up straighter, as if remembering who he was.

 

“It was the apocalypse, Lis. Sam died saving the entire world.”

 

Lisa became puzzled; surely Dean didn’t mean the holy fire apocalypse that threatened to leave the world in embers.

 

Dean noticed her confusion and made a marked effort to explain better.

 

“Lucifer was set free. The only way to stop the end of the world as we know it, was for Sam to trick the Devil back into his prison, or as it’s more commonly known, the Cage. Sam is stuck in that hellhole with the Devil and the most powerful archangel next to him, Michael.” He stopped to take a breath, knowing that she would need a few moments to process the information he had just given her.

 

“So, you two stopped the world from ending?” Lisa tried to sound like she believed him, but the incredulity of it all was making it almost impossible for her.

 

All Dean could do was nod. Words were escaping him currently.

 

_“It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got him.” Sam looking at him with those big hazel eyes, only love and courage reflected back at him._

 

Being hit with that memory hurt almost as much as the physical blows Sam had doled out. Dean could still feel where Sam had assaulted his face, but the assault that hurt more was seeing how strong and brave his baby brother had become; nothing could dull that pain of loss. Seeing the lack of fear in Sam’s eyes drove it home for Dean that Sam would be gone and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop any of it from happening. Biting down on his fist in hopes of stifling another bout of tears, Dean felt Lisa come around the island and wrap her arms around him tightly.

She was warm, soft and smelled of vanilla. There was only one problem: she wasn’t Sam. He did his best to return the hug, covering her hands with his own.

Quietly, Lisa took his empty mug from him and started to walk out of the kitchen. Dean raised his eyebrows, asking if he should follow.

 

“You need sleep, Dean. We can talk more in the morning.”

 

Lisa stood in the hallway, waiting for Dean to perform his customary checks and rituals, and almost fell over in shock when he simply followed her into the hall without so much as laying down a salt line or even double checking the door locks.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to put up a salt line, sigils or check the locks as he was trained to do. His body was tired, his heart was less than functional and his soul was a black void; what did it matter to try and protect himself?

In Lisa’s bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers and white t shirt, too tired to care what side of the bed he slept on or if he had even checked his phone for any messages from Bobby.

Lisa settled down in bed next to Dean, feeling his agony rolling off of him in a heavy, black cloud.

 _Oh, what did she just sign up for_ , she wondered to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on Tumblr at deansapplepi3!


End file.
